Uncharted 3 and the Nature of Identity

There's a pivotal moment that comes midway through Uncharted 3; the villain Marlowe has Nathan Drake in her clutches, he's separated from allies Elena and Sully, lackey Talbot sits at a nearby table, and Marlowe takes the opportunity to play her full hand. She knows Drake, better than he thinks he does, better than he wants her to. And she reveals something to him that he likely thought almost no one knew, and that was certainly of surprise to the player: his name isn't really Nathan Drake. And the story he's told about being a descendant from Sir Francis Drake? Likely a fabrication.

It's a risky kind of game changer to take, particularly for a major character (especially one as iconic as Nathan Drake) in the middle of a successful third outing, to pull the rug out from underneath both the character and player, and change, even if ever-so-slightly, our perception of him. The kind of gamble that may not have paid off; but here it succeeds, in large part because it's exactly what Nate's story in Uncharted 3 is all about.

By this point in the franchise, we've come a long way with the character. We're comfortable with who he is, and are familiar with where he comes from (taking cues from Indiana Jones, Hans Solo, and Lara Croft, among others). He tracked down the lost gold of El Dorado, and prevented the mutant virus from being transported off the island; he found the city of Shangri-la, and fought down a madman who used the Tree of Life to become immortal. And he did it all with charisma, bravado, and many a clever retort. The first game was about paying homage to the franchise's roots, with an archetypal adventure quest aiming to discover lost treasure; the second game was about his love triangle, his diametric relationships with Chloe and Elena, and which one he would choose between them.

But Uncharted: Drake's Deception is all about Nate himself, his fears, who he is as a person, and the importance his relationship and history with Sully plays into it.

In literature, there's a writing technique called the Iceberg Theory (or Theory of Omission), largely attributed to Ernest Hemingway as its originator. The idea behind it is that much of the information given to the reader is just surface details, and though it isn't stated explicitly, it implies a great deal more going on down below. And if the story is well-told, providing absolute clarity of details, then the reader will be able to interpret below-the-surface meanings.

(For another great video game with usage of the Iceberg Theory, see Portal 2.)

The writing in Uncharted 3, at times, almost goes out of its way to not be specific, leaving a lot of what's going on implied, to be speculated on, and to allow the person playing the game to draw the lines between details and figuring things out for themself. In a way, this can make the storytelling much stronger, because not only does it allow for recognizable truths for the audience, but acknowledges that stating it explicitly would undermine the potency. It's also a means of falling back on the old adage: show, don't tell.

The needed details of Nate's particular journey in this outing are spread throughout the game, but when put together, they form a clear picture. Whereas previous adventures were driven by villains responsible for blackmail and betrayal, Marlowe is more dangerous than Lazarević, or Gabriel Roman. Not just because of her history connected to secret societies, or the fact that almost every one of Nate's companions, at some point, balks at contesting with her. It's because unlike the others, Marlowe knows the whole truth of who Nate really is.

Nate's motivation this time around is never stated explicitly, but comments are certainly made along the peripheral. After escaping the burning Chateau in France, Sully questions whether or not it's worth the risk of continuing, and what their goals are, telling Nate "You got your pride all tangled up in this." After leaving the Citadel in Syria, Chloe, too, questions fighting against such dangerous foes, even asking straight up what Nate is trying to prove. And Elena, upon meeting Sully and Nate in Yemen, recognizes what it's all about almost immediately: Francis Drake's ring. And Katherine Marlowe.

In flashback, we're given the chance to see not only Nate's first encounter 20 years earlier with Marlowe, but also how he came to meet Sully. And just as important, how he acquired the ring. Based on information given to us later in the game (at the reveal that Nathan Drake isn't his real name) we know that both of his parents, in a sense, gave up on him. He wound up in a "boarding school" (young Nate: "That's a nice word for it.") run by nuns, where he was forced to learn history and Latin. Again, one can only speculate at this juncture, but the results very much hint at what may have well happened. With no parental guidance and no adult exclusively to care for him, feeling very much alone, he stumbles upon the history of one Sir Francis Drake (he even attended a school called St. Francis) where he discovers Drake's motto, repeated more than once throughout the game: Greatness from small beginnings. He has small beginnings, the kind he'd probably like to pretend he didn't, and so he abandons that past life, and adopts for himself a new one. No, Drake didn't have any heirs, but he could've had illegitimate children no one knew about. And wouldn't that be so much better? Take on a new persona, one with greatness in his future - greatness on par with Francis Drake himself - and he doesn't have to be the castoff anymore.

Young Nate tells Sully that the ring belongs to his family. "I'm just taking it back." His claiming of the ring is the claiming of a presumed inheritance, because if he can be worthy of the legacy of Francis Drake, then he can be much greater than the beginnings that he came from.

The key difference between Sully and Marlowe is in how they perceive young Nate; Sully views him with compassion, and even more or less adopts him (the game takes great pains not to state this explicitly, but in the final scene, Sully all but comes out and calls him an adopted son). But Marlowe knows who he is as well, and she doesn't think well of him. She calls him "filthy," "castoff," "beggar," not "fit to touch these objects" (referring to Drake's legacy); and when she holds him captive in the present, he denies it, but she can see through him. "Beneath that cocky exterior, you're still the same scared, filthy little runaway, aren't you." She does not pose it as a question.

Marlowe knows who he is - powerful enough in it of itself - and that in many ways, he's not who he claims to be (including the power of knowing that Nathan Drake isn't his true name; the power of naming, of course, is something that has a long history - for a recent example, see: Voldemort). At the outset of the game, she ruminates over what he's really afraid of, pointing out that all the danger and excitement is something that he "gets off on." Nate's worst fear is that she's right about him; and he loves the danger because it makes him feel worthy of Francis Drake's great legacy. If he can be worthy of the ring, then it doesn't matter where he came from.

This, of course, complicates his relationships with those around him, as his obsession goes down to his very identity itself, and the right that he has to claim it. It was powerful enough to drive Elena away, he's warned off from following Marlowe by everyone but Charlie Cutter, and Elena cautions him not to let his obsession harm Sully, especially given the loyalty the two men have to one another.

The game's title includes "deception", leaving open to interpretation what it could mean; including Francis Drake's own deception about knowing the location of Ubar, or more importantly, Nate's deception about who he really is. The individual we've seen in previous games is built largely around this identity, and Uncharted 3 is all about its deconstruction, understanding where Nate came from, and why anyone would intentionally seek out hidden treasures at the ends of the earth with such potential cost and risk.

The knowledge that Francis Drake himself found the lost city of Ubar too risky to pursue only spurs him onward - if he can accomplish what Drake never completed, he's lived up to the name, it justifies his identity, and everything Marlowe thinks about him (that he worries is true) is wrong. Of course, his motivation in the back half of the game also becomes about rescuing Sully - and in the hallucinations he experiences after drinking the water of the city, (something described as a means of controlling people through fear) a great fear of his is demonstrated in the loss of Sully. When the time comes, Marlowe is dying as she is sucked into a sand pit and she proffers him the ring, asking if he is really worthy of the name. "Prove your greatness," she tells him. But by this point, Nate knows enough to have learned, and he turns away. "I've got nothing to prove."

That final, needed resolution is given in the last scene, in the conversation between Sully and Nate. Sully gives to Nate back his wedding ring (something Nate thought he lost) and tells him what he knows Nate needs to hear: "Here's the thing, kid. We don't get to choose how we start in this life. Real greatness? It's what you do with the hand you're dealt." It's an old saw, but it remains no less true. And it's the most appropriate conclusion for the character to finish out the game. Nathan Drake (or whatever his real name is) no longer needs claim to the ring, and the fabricated identity, to know that he's still an individual of worth.

Thanks for reading.

Side note: I could also call this, the reason why I would choose Drake's Deception as my favorite of the series just barely over Among Thieves; and the fact that any video game has achieved enough complexity to accomplish this level of character deconstruction is fantastic. Kudos to Amy Hennig and Naughty Dog - they are masters of their craft.